Unexpected
by Lady of the Phoenix
Summary: It takes sweeps before either of them notice it. It wasn't until they were twelve sweeps old and the ascension was approaching that either of them noticed what should have been obvious to them. Karkat didn't look as old as he should have were he the maroon blood he posed as.


Author's Notes: The final of the prizes I owe for the GamKat contest. This time the giftee is the third place winner, PuRe-LOVE-G-S of deviantart. They asked for some GamKar history, and I'm going to do my best on that. Here you go. Assumes no Sgrub session and a few things about Karkat's mutation.

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Unexpected

It takes sweeps before either of them notice it. Part of that was because they were so used to the fact that they were the same age, and they took it for granted. After all, they'd met when they were only four sweeps old and back then Karkat had actually been of height with Gamzee. For the next four sweeps they were close friends, Karkat even being allowed to take the not so long walk to visit his moirail—they'd figure that part out rather quickly—without his lusus accompanying him. By then Gamzee had some height on Karkat, but only really because of his horns. Okay, so that wasn't fully fair, if he ever did something other than slouching Gamzee had a bit of height on Karkat, but that wasn't important. Then they were both nine sweeps old and living together, Karkat's lusus having decided to take care of the both of them, and Gamzee already having come to terms with Karkat's mutated blood, so they were already looking past the differences.

It wasn't until they were twelve sweeps old and the ascension was approaching that either of them noticed what should have been obvious to them. Karkat didn't look as old as he should have were he the maroon blood he posed as. In fact compared to a few of the other 'lowblood' friends they had the chance to meet, Karkat looked young. Young like Gamzee looked.

Things didn't happen like that. At least, they weren't supposed to. Everyone knew that the lowbloods aged a bit faster than other trolls. It was due, in part, to the fact that they were shorter lived. All trolls reached reproductive maturity at roughly the same point, but after that things started to differ. A highblood could spend sweeps looking the same, not aging in the slightest, while in the same amount of time a brown could grow elderly and die of age. Because of this the short lived bloodlines didn't last as long in the fleet, a fact that didn't really disappoint too many of the higher members of the hemospectrum.

But Karkat... Karkat wasn't aging like he was supposed to. Like he should have for what he claimed to be. Gamzee hadn't really noticed it because he was less familiar with it. Karkat hadn't noticed it because he was just so used to how he looked. Neither had thought to comment on it until it had gotten so close to ascension and Crabdad started to freak out. Every day now Crabdad was inspecting Karkat's hair for any sign of losing it's young, healthy sheen. He looked for wrinkles, for signs of weakness, for something that would make Karkat stand out less once they hit the ships. The problem was that he wasn't finding anything.

As much as Karkat hated to admit it, it was a problem. One of the things his lusus had managed to sink into his pan over the years was the fact that anything that made him look odd to others would draw attention. In any other situation that wouldn't be too bad. It could mean increased responsibility and authority, even if only over lowbloods. But that was for other trolls, for trolls who weren't mutants, who wouldn't be killed if someone saw his mutant, candy red blood. Drawing attention to himself was the worst idea ever. That was why he'd spent years learning lower level computer work so he could just be a good, quiet, unnoticeable technician lowblood who hadn't been born with any psionic abilities.

The question was what to do with all of this. Should he run the risk of discovery, have people look at him for his youth and age and wonder just what it meant for there to be a lowblood looking so young. It would probably mean being turned over to the mediceration teams. A test subject that would be culled the second he was scratched and bled red. And in the process he'd take Gamzee down with him. His moirail would never be able to just stand by and let Karkat die. No, that was wrong. He couldn't let his moirail go down with him. Gamzee deserved better than that. Besides, there was one option that was left for him.

Every ascension it was known that some lowbloods didn't make it. Where a highblood loss would be commented on, might even have drones sent to investigate, no one noticed when a registered maroons that wasn't destined for pilot duties didn't show up. It was just the way of things.

Gamzee, of course, didn't like the plan. The second Karkat suggested it, Gamzee was raging in a way that Karkat didn't quite understand how to stop. He tried shooshing, tried papping, tried whispering comforting phrases. Gamzee managed to punch the thermal hull so hard that it left a rather impressive dent. In the end Karkat only managed to get Gamzee to stop when he promised that he wouldn't do anything without okaying it with Gamzee. Not that he planned to keep that promise. Sometimes you had to do things for your moirail without their knowledge. Sometimes it was what had to be done to protect them.

So Karkat started packing, long before the scheduled day approached. His lusus seemed to understand what he was doing and started to acquire things quietly, or at least as quietly as he managed—which was still enough for Gamzee not to notice. A bag was packed with camping supplies, anti-sun gear, materials he would need to get to some caves to live in.

And, at last, the night before the ascension, Karkat slipped out of the hive he'd shared with his moirail for all of these years and started out for the place of safety his lusus had scouted out. He left Gamzee there, sleeping in their pile, and tried not to cry as he did. This was for the best, he told himself. Made it easier on them both. Karkat could keep living, and Gamzee wouldn't throw his life away to protect him. That first day he stayed in a rather small cave and cried for the whole night, for the first time in his life not caring if someone saw his bright red tears. The cave was hot, far too hot, when he fell asleep.

It was cool, blessedly cool, when he awoke. This was it, his first night fully without his moirail. If it hurt so bad right now, how was he going to handle it in the future? He started to tremble and cry once more.

"Shhhh," a voice said, soft and comforting in his ear. It wasn't the kind of sound that his lusus was prone to making. It was only then that he understood it. The blessed coolness on his skin, the soft voice, the comfort he'd had while he slept...

"Gamzee," he whispered, voice catching in his throat.

"Yeah, my motherfucking brother?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"I know brother," Gamzee whispered, his voice muffled as he spoke into the back of Karkat's shirt. "But I couldn't up and leave you."

"I was trying to protect you, Gamzee. Now I can't. They'll send drone after us and..."

"Ain't a thing, my little red blooded brother. I couldn't leave you. I'll deal with anyone who even tries to lay a finger on you."

"Gamzee... You've..."

"I pity you, Karkat. Not pale. Red. Always red. Ain't going to leave my flush behind, you get me?"

For the first time, Karkat did. He lay there in Gamzee's arms and wondered just how long he'd have with Gamzee. If how he was aging was any indication, it just might be enough to truly process the wonder of Gamzee loving him.


End file.
